4. Jen

4

Jen

J en swore loud and with the abandon that her multi-tour veteran of a father had passed down to her. She moved forward, dodging Troy when they attempted to reach for her, their concern evident. No matter there was now a blood oath tying their life to the Fae's, Troy still didn't trust Rodan.

But she had to.

Because he was a part of Maeve, and that woman meant near everything to her.

So Jen was at his side, supporting him as he leaned on her. He felt feverish, and Jen marveled at that. Can Fae catch something? "Woah, there," she said, just as Victor came to the other side, taking some of Rodan's considerable weight. The man was dense. "It's okay. You're back now."

"He smells wrong," Troy said. "He's sick." They still had the bow at their side, thumbing the fletching on the arrow.

Rodan laughed, then looked around, the panic back. "Maeve?"

"She's missing, too," Jen said. "Just before you, from what we've gathered."

He sagged, and Victor motioned toward the bed with his chin. Jen nodded frantically, and they dragged Rodan over, helping him onto the mattress. Rodan moaned and murmured something unintelligible which may have been in another language entirely, for all that she could understand.

Then his hand shot out, grasping her wrist, and she stilled, locking gaze with him. "I know where she is," he said, sitting up even though he was still wavering, still weak. "He gave her to them. He would mock me with the knowledge."

"Who?"

Lips curled. "My father. Icarus." That laughter again, the one which rang with broken edges. "He was behind it all. The trials. Sebastian. My sudden ineptitude at ruling my own world. He's been here weaving his traps for centuries. But I bound him, at last."

Jen motioned at the bed. "You need to rest." She looked to Victor. "Do we call a doctor?"

He looked helpless. "I don't know. I've never seen him this way."

Rodan's head was lowered, his lips still moving. She leaned in to hear him. "He said that they'll take her to Attica, that she is lost to me. She cannot be. If it's only been a few hours, there's hope. I may have gone through years, but perhaps there is still time."

"Who is they? Who has Maeve?" Jen asked, grasping him by the shoulders.

Rodan looked as though he attempted to lift his head, to look at her, but then his body went limp, and Victor was there guiding him down to the mattress. "The Nyx," he said at last, the words slurring with sleep, his eyes closed, dark lashes against bruised looking flesh. "He gave her to them."

A stone dropped in Jen's stomach. She watched Victor tend to a Fae whose brow was peppered with sweat and whose head swung side to side in his sleep, as though he were in a nightmare. The signs of exhaustion were everywhere about Rodan. In his limp body, the lines on his brow, and the deep shadows under his eyes.

She turned to Troy, who had put their weapon away at last. "If the Nyx have Maeve, we're going to need him."

"How could she have gotten to Attica so quickly?" Lizette asked, hands worrying at the hilts of her weapons. "It's a journey of two weeks or more by ship."

"Magic," Jen said. "I barely understand it. Do you?"

Rodan stirred, and the group moved to the further side of the room, all save Victor who pulled a chair beside the Fae's bed to keep a better eye. Nath seemed to want to join him, casting longing looks at the pair.

"We have to find our Queen," Lizette said first, her voice cast low. "He would want it same as us."

"But without him how can we get to her in time?" Jen asked. "She's with the Nyx. The last time—" she shuddered, remembering Maeve's account of the pressing dark, and how each time they had tasted her blood, and wanted her. "They said something about her becoming like them. I don't like that she's with them. It can only mean bad news."

"Agreed," Troy said. "I encountered several of the foul creatures. They are difficult to kill, and they are born from the shadow continent. It is their stronghold."

"It's why Rodan closed off Attica, more than a thousand years ago," she offered.

Lizette looked frustrated. "So we do what? Nothing?"

"We have to help him," Nath said, still looking to Rodan. "He would know what to do."

Thinking through all that she had learned over the last few months of this new world, Jen had a moment of sharp pain, thinking of Bethany's very recent demise. She had been a difficult woman for her to like, but no one deserved something like that. And her skills would have been invaluable here.

"There are magical users among our followers," she said at last. "I know we had some with us when we cleared the dungeons. If what I'm thinking is correct, he—" she gestured toward the bed. "Is exhausted, but he's afflicted with something I assume is magical in root. We need to find out what it is, so let's gather the gifted ones here."

"We can't expose him when he's this weak," Nath argued, wrenching his gaze away from the prone figure. "And what would we say of Maeve? Would we admit that she's missing, when she only just won, and has not yet been crowned? How can we explain her absence, when all know how they are together, rarely parted?"

Jen stepped forward. Nath was the shortest of them save for her, so she only had to lift her head a little to look him in the eyes. "What would you have us do, then? Because I'll be damned if I stand by and do nothing."

Troy's hand came down on her shoulder, and part of her loved them for it. To restrain her, the smallest and weakest of them all, was saying something about the situation.

Nath opened his mouth as though to argue or offer a counter-point, but then he frowned, glancing at Rodan again. "You think they can help him? He's Fae. The only one we knew of until until Queen Maeve."

"Regardless," Jen took a breath. "I am the Queen's contracted representative on Earth, our home planet, and as such I deem we bring in the magic practitioners to assess Rodan and see if they can speed his healing." She narrowed her eyes at the two guards. "Is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Nath said at once, straightening.

She looked at Lizette, whose lips were thin, but she gave a single nod. "Understood."

They left, and Jen sighed with relief, back pressed against Troy's chest. "I can't believe that worked," she whispered.

"It was a near thing," Troy said, looking unsettled. She turned to see them fully, and they said, "I want to find where Maeve went."

"She's in Attica."

"I know where she is now, but I want to see if I can trace her scent from earlier this morning."

Jen knew they would have to go alone. She had to stay and wait for the magic users, to make sure nothing else happened. "Go," she said. "I'll be here."

Troy grasped her hand, bringing it to their mouth and pressing heated lips against her skin. "I'll be back soon."

Then it was just her, Victor, and the unconscious Rodan.

Jen contemplated for a moment before pulling a chair to the other side of the bed, sitting opposite of the captain of the guard. She studied him for a time, his long, braided beard set with silver hoops and studs. His hair, when unbound, spread around his face like a lion's mane, just as it was now. Black and gray streaked with brilliant white, he looked like some fantastic beast could be found in his lineage. But right now, more than seeming fierce, the man looked adrift.

"He'll be alright," Jen said, somewhat more for her own assurance than for his. "Rodan has survived a sword through the chest, after all. Surely he can survive a fever."

Victor flinched, and his gray eyes assessed the room for a moment before alighting on her once more. "That was how my daughter died. Fever. She was six." His expression turned stoney. "She was born shortly after Rodan's first duel, and as such there was no access to his potion, his miraculous healing. Surely if he had been on the throne, my Aurora would still be alive."

The man looked somewhat surprised, blinking as the words ended and silence filled the space once more.

Jen inclined her head. "I am sorry for your loss."

He nodded.

"And I'm sorry for the role Maeve played," she continued, knowing they were the right words to say. "She assured his failure on that day, and if it hadn't been for her your daughter might still be among us."

Victor blinked at her. "Why would you say that? You're her friend, her confidant."

"I know my girl, and how she can be. I know her better than almost anyone. Reckless, sometimes, especially in her younger years. Sebastian's influence certainly didn't help." She gave a little chuckle. "May his soul rot in hell."

Except it wouldn't, because it was gone. Obliterated. Maeve had told her she had destroyed Sebastian Sekou, root and stem.

Good riddance, Jen thought. She had barely liked the character when Maeve had painted him as the hero in her stories. Something about him had never sat right with her. He seemed too convenient. Like he always knew exactly what to say, and when.

"I—may have judged her too harshly," Victor said, his gaze back on Rodan. The severe lines of his face softened. "She was barely a woman back then, and there is much they have brought to my attention. Not," he hastened to add, glancing at her. "That they need divulge to me, only I have gleaned much from their conversations and mannerisms. She… has not had an easy time with things, has she?"

"No," Jen said, maintaining eye contact. "Maeve has had it worse than most. And she's one of the strongest people I know."

"I see," he said. His attention went back to Rodan, though he still spoke to her. Neither of them had been loud, just conversational, but the Fae had barely twitched, except sometimes his head moved from side to side, as though he were searching. "At the least of it, I trust in my liege, and he trusts her. Loves her."

"More than anything," Jen reminded him. "He journeyed into death for her."

Victor was quiet, and she let the silence fill the chamber. She looked between the Fae lord sprawled on the bed, fitfully unconscious, and the tall windows showing a pale gray dawn and a stream of fat snowflakes.

It would have been peaceful, with the fire crackling in the hearth and the steady breathing of the guardsman, but then there was the occasional whimper that fell from Rodan's lips. She swore she heard him call for Maeve at least once.

Troy returned a mere moment before Lizette, who motioned Jen into the adjoining room. She went to find a contingent of a half-dozen different people.

Young, the majority of them, one barely looked out of their teens.

Sebastian must not have liked competitors, Jen thought, regarding them. They looked uncomfortable, some of them, out of place. She had the sense many of them weren't local to Realmsgate.

"Thank you for coming," she started, using her authority voice again. The one reserved for board rooms and business meetings. "I must ask each of you swear to secrecy. Nothing you see or do here can be spread as rumor. If that is not something you can do, go now."

None of them moved, but some fidgeted in place, looking even more nervous. They peered towards the door she had come through, curiosity blatant in their expressions.

Jen cleared her throat, pulling their attention. "Rodan has been afflicted with something I believe to be magical in nature. It is up to all of you to work together to discover what it is, and how we can help him."

One of them, the youngest, a girl with golden curls and big blue eyes, had a spark of interest light within. "What are his symptoms?" she asked, and Jen rocked back on her heels, hearing the accent of Ishtem, which she had not heard since she had last spoken to Bethany.

Blinking back a sudden wave of grief, she told the girl and the assembled group, "He has a fever, and he may be delirious. He's been gone a long time."

They looked confused. Lizette stepped in. "He was taken to another world. To him, he has been gone for years, though to us it has been hours."

Jen moved back, motioning for the group to go before her, following after the last. There was something about all of them that made her skin prickle, as though there was more electricity in the air than normal.

A chorus of murmurs and gasps. Then, starting with the blonde girl, the group made their way over to the bedside. Most put their hands out toward Rodan, hovering palms-out over his body, and some closed their eyes, looking as though they were praying.

"Where did they all come from?" Jen asked Lizette and Nath, who came to flank her, watching the magic users at work.

"The lady Bethany found them, most, through rumor and speculation. It was an open secret that Sebastian killed anyone of enough magical aptitude, so a great many of these people have been hiding their abilities for years. None have seen any sort of formal training, and other than two of them that were with us last night, they are untested." Lizette's words were quiet and quick. "So I do not know how much help they can truly be."

"Have faith," Nath murmured.

Jen glanced at him. "Do you keep with a religion?"

"I follow Garna, and the Four Brothers," Nath replied, not taking his eyes away from the events unfolding before them. "And I hold that Maeve Almeida is the gods flesh sent to us, for reasons we may not understand yet but will become clear in time."

Lizette, Troy, and Jen were all staring at him by the time he was through, and he shrugged.

"It does nothing to change how I perform my duties," he said.

Jen changed the subject, glancing at her lover. "Did you find anything more about Maeve's activities?"

"She went into the gardens. She was taken there," Troy reported. "The strange Fae was about the place, as was the odor of a Nyx, but there the scents end."

"Magic," she said. "I'm sure of it. He somehow transported her or something, sent her to Attica with that Nyx creature."

There was a shout from the bed and every head whipped toward Rodan.

"Fuck," Jen swore, moving closer. Troy stopped her, hand on her shoulder. She glanced at them. "What if?—"

"What are you going to do, little human?" the elf asked, interrupting her with a severe expression. "Do you know the magic to aid him?"

She frowned and watched as Rodan's back bowed, and three of the six magic-wielders arranged hands out in a circle to contain him. The air shimmered like a soap bubble, and as the sensation of electricity seemed to intensify, something lashed from the Fae and threw one of the wielders against the wall, where they crumpled into a heap.

Jen's heart was lodged in her throat, and she wanted again to go to them, to somehow help, but Troy kept her in place.

Rodan's body began to seize, and when his eyes opened again they were misted pink, blood-tinged tears falling from the corners.

The blonde girl cried something that Jen could not understand, placing hands directly on the Fae's chest as he thrashed, as though her small body could somehow keep him still.

Yet, miraculously, it did.

But he became so still that Jen had an entirely new fear roaring through her. "Please, please, please," she prayed, to what gods she was not sure, only that some must be listening.

If he died, so did Maeve. They were enmeshed, one to the other.

His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, staring without seeming to see. The blonde looked frantic, and the others were beaded with sweat, their arms shaking as they held them out.

Jen could not help but think they were so young, so untested. She was smacked with the thought that this had been utter folly.

Then the girl who had taken charge began to chant, the language not one that Jen could understand. Nath stepped forward, his lips parted. "We thought they were all gone."

Jen wanted to ask what he meant, but then the three were lowering their arms as a red-coated mist began to rise from Rodan's body like a tidal fog. He was shaking visibly, but the girl was swirling her hand in the mist, wrapping it like cotton candy around her fingers, wincing as she did so.

There was a sense of malevolence to that force, one that seemed to want to crawl up the young woman's arm as she rushed to the fireplace, flinging the stuff into the flames. It burned to ash in an instant.

The room felt lighter, and Victor was leaning over the bed, grasping Rodan by the forearm and helping him to sit up. The Fae wavered, hands pressed to the mattress to steady himself. He was soaked in sweat, his stained clothes stuck to his body. Blood streaked his face from the tears.

"I thank you," he said, the words somewhat slurred, but more awareness coming to his eyes with every breath.

Jen would be stayed no longer, and rushed over to the bed. "Are you okay? What was that?"

"A curse," he said, the words soft. He still had those dark shadows beneath his eyes, but as she watched they seemed to fade. "Was it you who called them?"

Jen nodded as he swung his legs over, standing with the help of Victor, who said, "Lady Jen would not hear against it."

"Then you saved my life," Rodan murmured, swaying a little on his feet. He gave a crooked smile and glanced at the contingent of practitioners assembled around him.

All of them were looking at him as though he were some kind of—Jen hated to think it—god.

"It's you," the blonde girl said, her hands clasped before her as she stared up at Rodan. "You're the one the magic comes from."

Rodan shook his head, and made a rumbled response. "I quickened the magic here, little one, but I am not a source. For that, you'll have to look deeper." His gaze went to each of the wielders. "All of you have performed an immense service this day. I owe you a great debt." He gave a slight bow of his head, and though his voice was strong, there was a weariness to it that Jen had never heard before. Despite it, he continued. "What would you have as payment? Name it, each of you."

Jen rocked back into Troy's waiting arms as Rodan granted each of them a treasure or magical talisman, until the last was the blonde, who shyly gave her name as Aesa. "I would ask to learn from you," she whispered. "Just once. It needn't be more."

Rodan's expression, so often severe, softened. "Aesa. I would be honored." He gave a slight bow. "Though it may be some time. There are many needs to attend to."

"Of course," she breathed, looking awed. "Whenever—it is no rush."

The others murmured, some of them looking disappointedly down at their talismans and treasures as though they had turned to worthless dirt in their hands.

Jen tensed a little as Rodan moved toward her after dismissing the wielders, Lizette and Nath escorting them out of the inner chambers. His expression was back to the somber mask he often seemed to wear, the severe lines marking his face.

"Jen, Troy," he said in greeting. "You moved quickly, for which I thank you."

She stared at him without reservation, taking in the fact that the deep shadows under his eyes were still present. "You look exhausted."

"I am. Be that as it may, Maeve is with the Nyx," he said, the words a near-growl. "We must get her back."

"How?" Jen asked. "We can't get to Attica in this," she gestured at the windows, at the wind and snow howling and slamming against the panes.

Rodan smiled. "There are better means of travel than what we have been reduced to these last few months. All of the Fae can move through the pathways. They may not deliver us to her doorstep, but they will get us to Attica, and I can take however many people can grab hold of me."

Her heart began to race. "We can get her back?"

"We can. We will." He looked between them both. "And I'll need your help."